


Not So Different

by skybound2



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-10
Updated: 2004-09-10
Packaged: 2017-10-10 18:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skybound2/pseuds/skybound2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy reflects on what her life has become post-resurrection. Buffy/Spike implied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not So Different

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline:** Sometime during mid-season 6 of BTVS  
> **Warning:** Angsty, DARK Ficlet. Character Death.

The bath water sloshes as Buffy slips into the tub, settling slowing beneath its surface. Air hissing through gritted teeth as the hot liquid envelopes her body, tingeing the skin pink. _Pleasure, pain, heat, passion, cold, cold, cold…_

The cold inside her refuses to ebb.

It's constant, the buzzing inside her brain. Telling her she's wrong. She's just some used up shell, cracked wide open and left for maggots to feed on.

_Buffy?_

She can feel them crawling around inside her, eating away at her core. Wriggling about her flesh as it seals itself around exposed bone. She can still feel the blinding agony of it as she became aware again; yanked back inside a corpse buried six feet under ground.

_Go away, Spike._

She doubts her friends thought about that either. The logistics of what they were about to do never crossed their well-meaning minds. They wanted her back, at any cost.

Only she's the one that's paid the price.

She remembers the words he'd whisper in her ear as she would cry for release; remembers the disgust that rolled around in her belly. Not at him though. Not at the sweet, albeit, pitiful sonnets he'd chant as they moved together. He was the only thing in this world she could touch now that didn't make her stomach turn.

_My sweet, Buffy; taste like sunshine and lavender. So soft, so perfect…_

No, no the disgust was directed completely at herself. She should _feel_ something, shouldn't she? Her heart should flutter when he says _I love you_, but instead it just sits in her cavernous chest, unmoved. Dead like the rest of her, dead like_ him_.

She thinks about how easily his flesh gives beneath her fists and teeth. Thinks about how satisfying it is when she bites down on his shoulder, his arm, or his chest. But the satisfaction never stays.

_For a vampire, you're awfully fragile, Spike._

They aren't so different now, maybe that's why she craves him the way she does. Craves the life he breathes into her. Craves the heat that he causes to rise up in her stony flesh.

They are both nothing more then animated corpses after all. Feeding on the life of others to give their own bodies cohesion. But how long can they feed from each other, before one of them crumbles to ash?

_You've marked me, Buffy. All the pretty blues, and purples, and blacks; stained me with your soul. Can't you feel it, Buffy?_

As the water surrounding her turns cold, she thinks she knows the answer.

_Your delusional, Spike._

A metallic clatter sounds out as the blade falls none-to-gently to the ground. Warmth spreads through Buffy's limbs; soft and welcoming, just like him. Slowly the water warms around her, all the tension flowing out of her finally, flowing as easily as the blood from her veins. _Pleasure, pain, heat, passion, cold, cold, cold…_

She thinks she finally knows.

 

~End


End file.
